Blindsided
by N'kala
Summary: An accident during a case leaves Nick blind and dependent upon friends while danger lurks in the shadows.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Blindsided  
><strong>Author:<strong> N'kala  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine  
><strong>Summary:<strong> An accident during a case leaves Nick blind and dependent upon friends while danger lurks in the shadows.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Thank you all for the wonderful reviews you left on my fic 'Missing'. I really loved hearing from all of you. I actually have 2 stories I'm in the process of writing for Grimm; I hope you enjoy.

As a further note, I want to let you know some of the things I will NOT write. I do not write any 'ship, whether it's het or slash. I do not write deathfics (well, I won't kill off canon characters. I make no promise for my own creations). I do not write permanent disability fics. Basically, I borrow all of the characters, put them through the wringer, then return them to their owners a little worse for wear, but intact for the next person to play with. That said, enjoy the story!

**Blindsided**  
>By: N'kala<p>

Chapter One

"Portland PD! Freeze!"

Nick Burkhardt flew down the road, easily outpacing his partner. Ahead of him, running faster than anyone Nick had ever seen, was their suspect.

"You keep running, you'll only go to jail tired!" Hank yelled ahead.

The suspect ignored him, darting down a side street.

"You didn't really think that would work, did you?" Nick tossed over his shoulder, turning the corner sharply.

"Worth a shot," Hank threw back, trying to save his breath.

The two detectives turned down an alley behind several shops, then slowed cautiously. The alley before them was deserted; there was no sign of their suspect.

Nick and Hank withdrew their guns, keeping them low but ready as they scanned the scene.

"Police officers!" Nick called out again, edging forward. "Show yourself!"

Nothing moved. Nick's eyes slide over brick walls and stained garbage cans, looking for anything that could shelter their suspect from sight. He felt more than saw Hank move to one side of the alley and automatically moved to the other. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise; whether it was cop instinct or some part of his Grimm heritage, Nick couldn't say. His senses were on full alert for some kind of ambush.

"All this for a jewelry store robbery?" Hank muttered. He raised his voice. "Jonathon Price! Come out and put your hands on your head. Don't make this situation any worse for yourself than it has to be."

Nick had no warning.

Their suspect leaped out from a hidden niche that was tucked into the rear of a small coffee shop, swinging a broken two-by-four. Nick darted out of the way, but not before the slab of wood struck his temple.

Nick stumbled, his gun dropping to the ground with a clatter. Before he could recover, Price scooped up his gun and grabbed the young man, pulling him to his chest to use as a shield against Hank. Nick winced as the barrel of his gun pressed tightly into his injured temple.

"Let me go, man!" Price yelled at Hank, wild-eyed with something that seemed to be more than plain adrenaline.

Hank's eyes narrowed, recognizing possible substance abuse. He tempered his voice. "It's okay, Jonathon. Just let my partner go and we can talk about it. No one has to get hurt here."

"Put your gun down!" Price demanded. "Put it on the ground or I'll blow his head off!"

Hank slowly raised his hands, nonthreatening. "All right, take it easy. I'm putting my gun down on the ground. Just relax."

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, setting his gun at his feet, then rose. Hank made sure to make his movements fluid, not wanting to risk the man startling and accidentally killing his partner.

"Nick, you okay?" Hank asked, risking the question. His eyes were drawn to the blood beginning to trail down Nick's face.

"Fine," Nick grunted. "Small headache."

Hank smiled softly. "I bet." He turned his gaze to Price. "How about letting my partner go? I'll go with you. Wherever you want to go. Just let my partner go, huh?"

Price frowned, confused by Hank's friendly and open demeanor. "I-I . . . n-no . . ." The gun in his hand wavered, the barrel slipping away from Nick.

That was all Nick needed. Bracing himself, he threw his full weight backwards, sending himself and the suspect careening into the brick wall behind them. The force of the impact forced Price to release Nick, who spun around to face him.

Fueled by a sudden flush of rage, Price roared and grabbed Nick by the front of his shirt, spinning them around and slamming Nick into the brick wall with all of his strength. Nick's head bounced off of the brick, sending stars exploding before his eyes. Price pulled him forward and slammed him back again.

Hank seized Price from behind, fighting to free Nick from his grip. Price managed to send Nick into the wall a third time before Hank kicked his right foot out from under him, sending him to one knee. Hank used his momentum to force Price all the way to his belly and wrenched one of his hands behind his back.

Price screamed incoherently as Hank placed the cuff on one wrist, then the other. Gripping a handful of Price's hair, Hank pulled his head back.

"Shut up before I shut you up!" he snarled.

Price responded by trying to spit on Hank.

Hank spared a glance for Nick, who was lying against the brick wall, unconscious. There was a disconcerting trail of blood on the stones, tracing Nick's gradual slump to his current position.

"Nick?" Hank called. "Nick, can you hear me?"

Nick didn't respond.

Unable to go to his partner for fear of Price making it to his feet and running again, Hank pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial to dispatch. "This is Detective Griffin requesting back up and an ambulance to the alley behind Mac's Coffee Shop on Wabash. Officer down."

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Juliette Silverton ran into the waiting room of the ER, her eyes wide in barely concealed panic as she searched for Hank. Spotting him pacing impatiently near the nurse's desk, she hurried over to him. "Hank?"

Hank turned at her voice and immediately drew her into a comforting hug. "I haven't heard anything yet; he was still unconscious when they took him back."

Juliette pulled away and looked up at him. "What happened?"

Hank shook his head. "We were chasing this suspect . . . he got the drop on us."

"Did you get him?" Juliette asked.

Hank's gaze hardened ever-so-slightly. "Yeah, we got him. A few of the guys are making sure that he gets processed through the system right now."

Juliette chose to let that last comment slide as she heard Nick's name called. She and Hank turned to face a woman wearing a white coat and looking at them with a politely quizzical look on her face.

"I'm Juliette, Nick's girlfriend," Juliette introduced herself. "This is Hank, his partner. How is he?"

"He's still unconscious," the doctor admitted. "We ran several tests and found some swelling in his brain, which we're keeping an eye on. For now, we've graded him with a severe concussion, but that can change depending on how he responds once he awakens. If you come with me, I can take you to him."

"Thank you," Juliette replied. Gripping Hank's arm for support, the two followed the doctor.

The doctor led them to Nick's door and quietly excused herself. Hank laid a hand over Juliette's and squeezed gently before removing her hand from his arm, allowing her to approach Nick first. Juliette walked over to Nick, her eyes tracing his still form.

If it hadn't been for the bandage swaddling his head and the small stitches in his forehead, Juliette could have mistaken Nick's condition for slumber. The machines surrounding his head chirped quietly, monitoring him. Juliette reached out a hand, hesitated, then gently gasped Nick's limp hand and squeezed it.

Nick flinched and grunted softly, hand twitching in Juliette's.

Juliette leaned forward. "Nick? Nick, can you hear me?"

She felt Hank's presence right behind her, but kept her eyes focused on Nick.

Nick fought the pull of oblivion, lifting heavy eyelids and blinking wearily. "Juliette? What happened? Where am I?"

Juliette tightened her grip on Nick's hand. "You're in the hospital. What do you remember?"

Nick closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. Something did not seem right to Juliette, but she wasn't sure what.

"I . . . there was a suspect," Nick recalled slowly. "We were chasing him. Hank? Where's Hank?"

"Right here, man," Hank spoke up, reaching out and laying a reassuring hand on Nick's arm. "How you feeling?"

Nick sighed. "My head hurts."

"I bet it does," Hank replied, unconsciously mimicking his earlier comment. "They've got you on the good stuff."

Nick's eyes shifted to Hank's general direction. "Thanks for turning off the lights, though. That helps."

Ice froze Juliette's insides. She felt Hank stiffen behind her.

Nick sensed the change in the air, and he lifted his eyes up to Juliette. "What?"

Juliette exchanged an uncertain glance with Hank. "Nothing, honey," she said, threading her fingers through Nick's bangs. "Why don't you go back to sleep? Maybe that'll help the headache a bit."

She remained at his side, gently carding her fingers through hair not covered by bandages while Hank left in search of the doctor. Nick tried to fight sleep, to stay awake, but the soothing motions Juliette was making through his hair lulled him back into a peaceful slumber.

Juliette continued stroking Nick's hair, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. Blinking rapidly, she glanced up at the ceiling lights.

The _bright_ ceiling lights.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I am not a doctor. The only medical knowledge I possess is from online. I got my information on the brain from partyprogram dot com. I took creative liberties on medical conclusions. If this sort of thing bothers you, don't read.

Chapter Three

Doctor Tanya Keller glanced around at the three people in her office, her heart going out to each one. Though the news she had to deliver was not the worst, it still weighed heavily on all three of them.

The young woman was sitting in the chair in front of Keller's desk, clasping her hands tightly between her knees and fighting back tears. Her patient's partner was prowling like a caged animal, his need for action apparent to everyone. It was the third man that puzzled her.

Introduced as Nick's boss, Captain Renard had arrived at the hospital just as Hank had tracked her down and demanded an explanation she didn't have. He now stood behind Juliette, arms folded and attention focused completely on the doctor. Keller had to admit, the singular gaze was rather intimidating.

"My detective is _blind_?" Renard asked softly, his tone demanding elaboration.

Juliette flinched almost imperceptibly, but Keller's keen eye caught it.

"I reviewed the scans we took when Nick was admitted," Keller stated calmly. She opened the file in front of her and pulled out copies of Nick's brain scans. "I mentioned before we noted some swelling. I've ordered more tests, but from what I can see, the swelling appears to be located in the occipital lobe of the brain.

"The occipital lobe is located at the rear of the brain," Keller continued, holding up one of the scans and pointing to the relevant area. "This area is called the visual cortex and is responsible for our ability to see light and recognize and identify objects. Now, according to Detective Griffin's statement and the injuries I observed on Nick, this was the area damaged in his attack. The swelling in his brain could be affecting his ability to see."

"So when the swelling goes down, he'll be okay?" Juliette asked hopefully.

Keller considered her words carefully. "That's very possible, but until the swelling goes down, there's no way to tell the extent of the damage. The newest scans may give us more information, but there's not much we can do at the moment until the swelling goes down."

Juliette nodded, looking down at her hands.

"What does that mean for now?" Renard asked. "How long will you be keeping him here?"

"Well, he still needs to be monitored due to the swelling and the concussion," Keller said. "If neither worsens, he can be released tomorrow afternoon. I'd like to recommend that he speak to the hospital psychologist, though."

Hank rounded on her, storming up to her desk. "Why? If it's a temporary condition, why drag the shrinks in?"

Keller was not cowed. "Whether this is a temporary or permanent condition, Nick is going to have to go through a major adjustment. The psychologist will help him work through whatever issues he might need to deal with."

"I don't like it," Hank stated firmly, shaking his head. "It's like we're already giving in and admitting that this is permanent."

"It doesn't matter whether it's permanent or temporary right now," Renard said. "What matters is that Nick will need our help to get him through this. I'll go ahead and process his medical leave." He turned to Keller. "How long do you think this will be if it's temporary?"

Keller silently blessed Renard's calm foresight. "No more than a couple weeks, based on the level of swelling. When he's released, I'll be setting up appointments every few days to check on his progress."

Renard nodded. "All right then. Hank, I need you back at the station to file your report on what happened. I want to go after Price for everything we've got, and I need you to do it."

Hank nodded and, with a gentle pat to Juliette's shoulder, left Keller's office. Renard turned to Nick's girlfriend.

"Let me know if you need anything," he told her gently. "We take care of our own."

Juliette nodded and watched Renard leave before turning back to Keller. "I guess all that's left now is to actually tell Nick what's going on."

Keller smiled faintly. "Would you like me to do it?"

Juliette sighed. "I would, but I think he needs to hear it from me."

Keller nodded. "Just remember to keep the faith; it's too soon for us to tell what the future will hold."

Juliette shook Keller's hand in thanks and stood, moving to the door. "It sounds so easy when you say it like that."

"Good luck," Keller wished to her retreating back.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry for the lack in updates, and for the short chapter. RL just smacked me upside the head this week at both work and at home, and I'm having to pick up the pieces on my own. Unfortunately, this is the best I can do at the moment. I'm hoping to at least have the work situation resolved tomorrow, or later this week, so that I can get back to my writing.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Four<span>

Juliette sat on the edge of the chair beside Nick's bed, tightly gripping his hand while he slept. She didn't have the heart to wake him, so she sat quietly at his side, going over what she was going to say to Nick.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't realize Nick had woken up until his soft voice spoke up, causing her to jump slightly at the sudden sound.

"Juliette?"

Juliette stood and leaned over Nick, her eyes taking in the frown marring his features. "I'm here, honey. How are you feeling?"

Nick was silent for a moment. "The lights aren't off, are they."

It wasn't a question.

Juliette's hold on Nick's hand tightened. "The doctor said that, when you hit your head, you hurt the part of your brain that helps you see. We didn't know, though, until after you woke up last time."

"I'm blind?" Nick asked, his voice hushed.

Juliette blinked back tears. "The doctor said it's possible that it's just temporary, until the swelling in your brain goes down. And you won't be alone in this; you have me, and Hank, and Captain Renard was here. We'll help you get through this until you're all better. You hear me?"

Nick's jaw clenched, but he nodded. Juliette didn't miss the light sheen of tears in her boyfriend's eyes, nor the faint hint of fear and the unknown facing him. She reached out and gently soothed back his hair from his forehead.

"I'm here," she whispered.

Nick squeezed her hand in response.

* * *

><p>Dark eyes studied the bloodied brick wall before him. A thrill of satisfaction ran through him at the scent of the Grimm's blood in the air. Someone had managed to injure a dangerous enemy.<p>

Good.

Injure, but not kill. The amount of blood told him that.

Even better.

He rested his weapon against the brick where the largest spot of blood stained the wall and dragged it down, relishing the screech of metal on brick. Flecks of blood came away from the wall, flitting gently to the ground.

The Grimm was still alive. The honor and duty of his job still belonged to him.

Folding his curved blade against his staff, he tucked it into a case and strode from the alley.

With so much blood left behind, there was only one place the Grimm could be.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Nick lay listlessly in his hospital bed, his eyes resolutely closed as his thoughts swirled in his mind. He sensed Juliette nearby, probably sitting next to him, but she seemed reluctant to disturb the silence that cloaked them.

The young detective couldn't wrap his mind around the news she had given him. Blind? How could that have happened? What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to do his job?

Nick wrapped a firm layer of denial securely around himself. Whether or not it was true, he didn't have to face it if he kept his eyes closed. At least that way he could pretend that he had control over being unable to see.

A new noise attracted his attention. Nick tilted his head slightly, his ears straining to identify the out-of-place sound. He heard the rustle of fabric and a whiff of Juliette's perfume; Juliette was standing, then. Nick waited.

"Mr. Burkhardt, I'm Carol, one of your nurses," a warm, maternal voice greeted him. "Dr. Keller has ordered some more tests for you. Feel up to taking a spin?"

Any other time, Nick would have cracked a joke. Any other time. "Sure."

Flat tone. Devoid of all emotion. He could almost _see_ Juliette's frown of concern.

"Would you like to come with us?" Carol's voice again, directed at Juliette.

Juliette's hand fell on Nick's shoulder. "Actually, I'd like to head out and pick up something to eat. Nick, is there anything special you want me to get you?"

Nick shrugged.

Juliette's hand tightened, squeezing his shoulder in a reassuring manner. "I'll be back with some VooDoo Donuts. Don't be too long with those tests, okay?"

A sudden wave of remorse flooded through Nick. He knew this new turn of events was difficult on Juliette as well as him. She was doing her best to help him; she didn't deserve his bad mood. He sat up quickly. Reaching up, he seized her hand and squeezed it back.

"I love you," he said, his tone slightly tinged with desperation.

He was enveloped in Juliette's scent as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I love you too, Nick. I know this is scary right now, but I'm here. Everything will be all right, okay?"

Nick nodded, not trusting his voice.

With a final squeeze of hands, Juliette withdrew. Nick's ears followed her as she grabbed her purse and exited the room, listening as her footsteps faded into the distance. He was so focused on Juliette that he had forgotten about the nurse until she gently cleared her throat.

Startling slightly, Nick offered a lopsided grin. "Um . . . you might have to help me. I seem to be having some trouble with my eyes."

"Let's see if we can do something about that," Carol replied kindly. "Is it okay if I touch your arm?"

Nick nodded. Cool hands appeared on his right forearm, guiding him as he slid to the edge of the bed and onto unsteady feet. An arm appeared around his back, gently leading him away from his bed and turning him.

"The arm of the wheelchair is right under your left hand, four inches down," Carol told him.

Reaching down and finding the arm right where the nurse had said it would be, Nick was able to make it into the wheelchair without embarrassing himself and sprawling on the floor. He huffed a sigh of relief that wasn't as quiet as he had thought.

"We made it!" Carol announced cheerfully. "The first time is always the most difficult. Now, we're going to head down the hall to the elevator and go up three floors. I'd recommend leaving your eyes closed until you get used to the feeling of moving without seeing where you're going, but you seemed to be ahead of me on that one."

Nick smiled ruefully. "No point leaving them open if they're not working, Carol."

Carol's hand patted his shoulder before steering him away from his room. "Just for now, honey."

Nick felt oddly comforted by that.

* * *

><p>He entered the main floor of the hospital, momentarily disoriented by the flurry of activity that surrounded him. People crowded the room, moaning in pain and demanding help while smells of blood and sickness permeated the air. He once again mourned the necessity of leaving his favorite blade behind as he searched for the Grimm, but it was too conspicuous. His smaller stiletto, passed down in his family over several generations, would have to do the job.<p>

He slipped away from the center of chaos that besieged the nursing desk and wandered through the halls. He paused in front of a directory, hoping to narrow his search.

Eliminating ICU, psychology, and all child-care departments, there were few levels left to choose from. Finding a possible lead on the third floor, which was marked Acute Assessment Unit, he made his way to an elevator and moved to the new level.

No one stopped him or paid him any mind as he passed the nurse's desk and continued down the hall. He checked systematically through each room, some with occupants and others empty, he saw no one that might fit the new Grimm's description. He tamped down his rising frustration and headed back towards the nurse's desk before freezing in fear.

A tall, forbidding figure was at the nurse's desk, blocking his path to the elevators. The regal profile and no-nonsense posture gave the man away.

He ducked back down a side corridor, considering his options. He felt a slight thrill of vindication at the thought that the Grimm was, in fact, on this floor, but that feeling was quickly chased away with the realization that the Grimm was beyond his reach as long as he was in the hospital.

Cursing softly to himself, he turned and found his way to the stairs. The Grimm wouldn't be here forever. He had found him once; he could find him again.

* * *

><p>Renard thanked the nurse at the station and headed towards Nick's room to wait for the young man to return. Halfway to his detective's door, he paused. Turning his head to one side, then the other, his sharp eyes scanned the floor for anything that appeared out of place.<p>

Nurses, patients, and family members walked about, some chatting quietly with one another. Nothing jumped out at Renard as being unusual, but his senses refused to let him be.

Pulling out his cell phone, he pressed his speed dial. "It's me. I need you and your sisters at the hospital to keep an eye on someone for me."

"Trouble?" Adalind's voice filtered into his ear over the phone.

"Better not be," Renard replied, hanging up the phone.

His Hexenbiester would keep Nick protected from whatever had set off his senses while the young man was in the hospital. However, they would be unable to do much once Nick was released.

That job would have to be handled by someone else.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for your patience while I was handling RL. I'm hoping that most of it has been resolved and will no longer be an issue. I have the next few chapters roughly outlined, so hopefully the updates with be frequent.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I happened to notice that there weren't any communities for Grimm! I decided to start my own community called 'The Pack'. In that community will be friendship-based fics from the TV show Grimm. If anyone knows of any stories out there not in the community but would like to see there, send me a PM or review one of my stories and I'll go out and find it.

Chapter Six

Two days.

Two days had passed since the hospital had decided it was safe to release Nick, and not once did Nick's sight grant him a reprieve.

It had been awkward at first. Once comfortable and confident within the walls of his and Juliette's home, Nick was left feeling a constant undercurrent of unease. He had thought he knew where everything in his home was. Maneuvering himself around a supposedly familiar location should have been second nature to him.

Instead, Nick found himself second-guessing his choices, running into furniture, and knocking pictures and other small treasures to the floor. The young man felt hyper-aware of his surroundings; the thought that his next move might knock something else over preyed on his sense of helplessness and fueled his self-disgust. Nick knew his temper was running very close to the surface, and only his concern for hurting Juliette's feelings kept the lid firmly shut.

Gritting his teeth, Nick slowly levered himself off of his couch and began to shuffle towards the kitchen where he could hear Juliette opening and closing cabinet doors. He needed a glass of water and his next dose of painkillers; the dull throb in the back of his head threatened to explode into a severe migraine if he didn't head it off now.

The sound of Juliette moving about the kitchen ceased. "Nick, honey, you should have called me! What do you need?"

Nick bit back a snappish reply. "Just water. I can get it."

He heard Juliette move and fought down a wave of frustration. "It's no problem; I can get it for you. Why don't you sit back down on the couch? I'll bring it out to you."

"It's fine," Nick ground out. "I can do it." He moved in the direction he knew the glasses to be.

Juliette was there. "Really, Nick, I don't mind-."

Nick reached for the glasses at the same time as Juliette. Their hands knocked together, causing Nick to knock several glasses onto the counter and floor. The sound of glass shattering sent Nick's temper boiling over.

"DAMMIT!" he yelled. "All I wanted to was to get a glass of water in my own damn kitchen! I HATE this!"

He slammed a fist down on the counter, grounding the broken shards under his hand and bowed his head, fighting back the sudden rush of tears.

Juliette had grown very still at his side, waiting for Nick's anger to subside. She seemed to sense that Nick would reject any touch at the moment, and a small part of Nick not wrapped tight in frustration appreciated the insight.

A few tense moments passed before Nick collected himself and withdrew from the counter. His unclad foot trod on a few more pieces of glass, and he winced.

"Wait there a minute," Juliette stated, her voice calm and collected. Nick listened to her walk swiftly to the other side of the kitchen and return moments later. He felt the bristles of a broom and heard the tinkle of glass as Juliette swept up the mess around him and felt another wave of hopelessness descend upon him.

Juliette swept the glass to the side and gently, tentatively, grasped one of Nick's sleeves. "Will you let me check your hand and your foot? You're bleeding."

Nick nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

Juliette's perfume filled the air, and Nick found himself drawn into a warm hug. He clung to Juliette, holding on tight. He squeezed his eyes shut, but not before several tears slipped free.

"It'll be okay, Nick," Juliette whispered to him. "I promise. Everything will be fine."

* * *

><p>The phone was mocking him.<p>

Monroe frowned at it. It was sitting innocently in the middle of his kitchen table, but he wasn't fooled. It taunted him.

The Blutbad seized the phone, pressed two numbers, then canceled and set it back down on the table. It wasn't going to win.

_Dammit_ . . .

Monroe picked up the phone, then put it back down.

What did it matter, anyway? So Nick hadn't called him in a while. It wasn't like he was actually _worried_ about the Grimm or anything.

Still . . .

That phone call he'd received earlier hung heavily on his mind. An unrecognized voice, asking him when he'd last heard from his pet Grimm before hanging up was beyond cryptic. But he _hadn't_ heard from Nick in a few days . . .

For crying out loud . . .

Monroe grabbed his phone and punched in Nick's number before he lost his nerve. He listened to it ring several times and almost gave up hope when his friend's voice came on the line.

"Nick, man, it's me," Monroe greeted, feeling a little awkward. "What's up, man?"

"Monroe?" Nick sounded confused. "I, uh . . . is everything okay?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me," Monroe replied. "I got a weird call this morning from someone asking about you. Did something happen?"

"Somebody called you?" Nick asked, life coming into his voice. "What did they say?"

"They just asked if I'd heard from you lately," Monroe told him. "And considering some stuff that I've been hearing lately, I got a little . . ."

"Worried?" Nick almost sounded amused.

"Curious," Monroe corrected primly.

"What have you been hearing?" Nick asked, letting the comment go.

Monroe lightly tapped the table in front of him. "Can you come over or something? It's not something I'd like to talk about on the phone."

There was a heavy pause on the line. "Um . . ."

Monroe tried to hide the unexpected hurt that rose up. "But if you're busy right now-."

"It's not that," Nick said quickly. "I, um . . . there was an incident at work. With a suspect."

Monroe straightened in his chair. His frown deepened as he listened to Nick haltingly tell him what had happened. Between Nick's latest situation and the rumors spreading among the creature community, Monroe didn't like the conclusions he was drawing.

"I'll be right there." He ended the call abruptly.

* * *

><p><em>KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK<em>

The door to Nick's house opened, and a woman with red hair and a kind face appeared before Monroe, smiling. "You must be Monroe. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Juliette."

Monroe accepted the hand she offered, shaking it gently. He had sped across town and charged up to Nick's house, his unease driving him forward. Finding Juliette greeting him calmly disarmed the Blutbad.

"Uh, it's nice to meet you," Monroe stammered. "Nick's told me a lot about you."

Juliette's smile brightened. "Come on in. Nick's in the living room. I need to run to the store for a bit. Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No, thank you," Monroe replied, stepping into the house. He belatedly wished her farewell, his eyes scanning the house as Juliette grabbed her purse and ducked out.

Monroe was filled with curiosity about the Grimm's territory, wanting to explore every inch of the house. Knowledge of Grimms was limited to horror stories and frightening retellings; being able to learn about them without fearing for one's life was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

A faint scent of blood tickled Monroe's nose, drawing his attention back to his purpose for being in a Grimm's home-in Nick's home. Monroe followed Nick's scent, thick with sadness and anger, into the next room.

Nick's head tilted slightly to the side as soon as Monroe entered the room. "Monroe?"

Monroe stared, dumbfounded, into Nick's flat, gray eyes. "Yeah, man," he replied, slightly breathless. He didn't like how unfocused those eyes looked; it was just wrong. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Well, I've been better," Nick replied honestly.

Monroe sat on the couch beside Nick, noting the way Nick tracked his movements. "You seem to be doing okay with it. I can't imagine what you're going through, but from what I can see, you're doing pretty good compensating."

Nick's brow furrowed. "I-what?"

"You didn't notice?" Monroe asked. "Huh. Maybe it's a Grimm thing. You're tracking me, man. For someone who can't see, you're doing pretty good looking right at me."

"It's not a Grimm thing," Nick denied. "It's not hard to figure out where you are. I heard you walk over here and felt the couch dip when you sat down. I know how little you slouch when you sit and which way you lean as you talk. I observe people, Monroe; it's my job."

"Like I said, a Grimm thing," Monroe stated. "Why didn't you call me when it happened?"

Nick's eyes skittered away. "I just . . . what would I have said? 'Hey Monroe, just an FYI, but I'm blind because some suspect decided to bash my head against a brick wall'?"

"To start with," Monroe agreed. "I mean, I can totally sympathize with him wanting to bang your head against a brick wall. God knows I've had the urge every time you tell me you want to chase blindly after some bloodthirsty creature."

Nick let out a surprised bark of laughter, and the air surrounding the young Grimm seemed to lighten.

Heartened by the uplift in his friend's mood, Monroe continued. "Listen, man, after everything else we've been through, I consider you, maybe, kind of, sorta, a friend. Maybe. Which means you can call me for other stuff, not just the Grimm thing."

Warmth crept into Nick's chest for the first time since he'd found out he couldn't see. He smiled softly, gratefully. "Thank you."

The swell of emotions became a little too much for Monroe. "I mean, really, you've saved my life, especially from that Lowen cage. And who else can you talk about human testicles with?"

Nick let out another laugh and leaned back against the back of the couch, tension seeping out of his shoulders.

Monroe let a smile escape, figuring it was safe enough to do so since Nick wouldn't see it anyway.

Nick sighed and turned his head towards Monroe. "So, what have you been hearing that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

The smile slipped off of Monroe's face. "It's just rumors, but creatures don't usually talk about stuff like this unless they were absolutely sure something was going on."

Nick quirked an eyebrow. "Well don't keep me in suspense."

Monroe shifted on the couch. "Word is that there's a new guy in town. This guy is bad news and is out for blood. Whose, no one seems to know. He's killed a couple people that crossed him like they were nothing. The only thing everyone seems to know is that he's hunting for something. Or someone."

"Do you think that that phone call you got this morning has something to do with that?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Monroe answered honestly. "Either way, if you get involved, you'll be at risk. You need to be careful."

Nick snorted. "Can't get into much trouble on my couch, which is where Juliette and Hank seem to think I belong."

"They obviously don't know you well at all if they think you staying on the couch will keep you from getting into trouble," Monroe snorted.

Nick smiled at that. "I appreciate the information. And the warning."

"Which you'll ignore the minute you figure out how to handle the situation with no sight," Monroe finished certainly.

Nick shrugged. "Well, yeah."

Monroe rolled his eyes. "Of course. Well, if you're hell-bent on trying to get yourself killed, how about we watch a little bit of TV or something?"

Nick raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine," Monroe said. "I'll watch. You Grimm it. You could use the practice anyway. Got any beer?"

"In the kitchen," Nick replied, enjoying the banter. It made him feel as though everything were normal again.

Monroe got up to retrieve beers for himself and Nick. "Don't get used to being waited on hand and foot!" he called over his shoulder. "When your sight comes back, I fully expect the favor returned."

The Blutbad's use of the word '_when_' sparked new hope in Nick. "No problem. When someone uses your head for a battering ram and you lose your sight, I'll go to your house and bring you beer."

"The good kind too!" Monroe shouted from the kitchen. "Not this crap you insist on buying!"

"Snob!"

"Plebeian!"

Yep. Normal definitely felt good.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

His eyes glinted in anticipation as they scanned the house before him. It had taken all of his skill, but he'd finally tracked the Grimm down.

Years of training and experience had tempered his desire to rush in and complete the job, and in this case had saved his life. While studying the Grimm's territory, he was surprised when, of all things, a _Blutbad_ exited the house. This sudden appearance gave him pause; had he gotten the wrong house?

The Blutbad paused halfway to his car, whole body tense. A chin lifted, the wolf's nose sniffing the air. A low growl carried on the wind to his ears. He quickly drew back a safe distance.

The wolf's head was swiveling back and forth, eyes glowing red with the sense of danger nearby. He watched the Blutbad prowl around the house, curious as to the creature's presence.

The Blutbad circle the property twice, sharp eyes missing nothing within the territory. He seemed to concede defeat and retreated to his car, stopping to look around several times before finally getting into his car and driving away.

This new complication needed reviewing. He had no qualms in killing a Blutbad, but he preferred to keep a low profile while his main mission was still incomplete. He slipped back down the road, intent on revising his plans.

He would return tonight.

* * *

><p>Juliette leaned her head against her hand as she relaxed on the couch, considering her boyfriend. Ever since Monroe's visit, she had noticed a change in Nick.<p>

Nick was curled up on the couch, his feet on her lap. His eyes were closed, but his body language was too tense for him to be asleep. He quirked an eyebrow, but kept his eyes shut.

"You're thinking kind of loud over there," he teased lightly.

A smile quirked Juliette's lips. "How was your visit with Monroe?"

"You were there," Nick reminded her. "If I recall, you asked him to stay for dinner."

Juliette playfully shoved at Nick's feet. "What did you two talk about when I was gone?"

Nick's lips twitched. "Guy stuff. Girls wouldn't understand."

Juliette laughed. "Pig. I should get up to bed; I have an early day tomorrow. You coming?"

"I'll be up in a bit," Nick told her. "I want to stay down here for a little bit longer."

"Okay." Juliette shifted his feet to the couch and stood. Leaning over him, she kissed him goodnight and headed up the stairs.

Nick sighed, feeling relaxed. He was loath to do anything to disturb the contentment that had settled over him, but exhaustion was calling him. Wearily, Nick rolled to his feet.

He was shuffling towards the stairs when a strange sound drew him up short. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he strained his ears to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

_Creak_.

Nick's heart sped up. Someone was in the house.

Sightless eyes scanned the room, ears listening for another sound. Nick allowed his feet to take control and he glided slowly and silently towards the nearest wall. He felt exposed, and he didn't like it.

Another creak sent his heart leaping into his throat. He needed a weapon; something to protect himself and Juliette with. Hands reached out and slid along the wall. Nick tried to remember where in the room he was, and what was near him that could be used as a weapon.

Hands suddenly grabbed at him from behind, snaking around him and pulling back against a warm body. A hand clamped down over Nick's mouth, silencing him. Nick struggled, but his captor was too strong. He couldn't move. Fear seized him.

"_Shh_!" a voice hissed. "It's me!"

Monroe? Nick sagged in Monroe's grip, lightheaded with relief. Before he could recover and demand answers, Monroe whispered urgently into his ear.

"There's someone else in the house."

Fear filled Nick again, this time tempered with control. He had help; Monroe had his back.

"Don't move from this spot," Monroe ordered sternly.

Nick shook his head, but Monroe tightened his grip, lightly shaking Nick.

"I'm not kidding, Nick," Monroe pressed. "Stay here. I'll take care of it."

Nick didn't like the command, but he recognized the necessity. He nodded.

Monroe gently guided Nick against the wall and out of harm's way, then crept out of the living room.

Nick pressed himself against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. He tried to listen for Monroe, or for the other person Monroe said was in his home, but could hear nothing.

Curiosity and his need to help overcame him, and he moved away from the wall. Dropping his arms and stretching them out to sweep away any obstacles, he stumbled in the direction he knew Monroe had taken.

A low growl was all the warning he had.

Something large and heavy slammed into him, knocking him to the floor. Nick felt two men grappling above him as he lay, pinned, on the ground.

"Monroe?" Nick called, his voice tinged with panic.

Snarls answered him. Nick twisted his head around, eyes wide in spite of his lack of sight.

Hands clutched at him, yanking him up to his feet. Nick's hands flew up in response, grasping the wrists of his assailant.

Another pair of hands appeared in the fray, freeing Nick from the iron grip and shoving him to the floor away from the scuffle. Nick landed with an _oomph_, the air knocked forcefully from his lungs. He lay dazed, a part of his mind marveling at the relative silence of the battle taking place in his home.

The sound of an end table being knocked over brought Nick swiftly back to his senses. He heard footsteps retreating rapidly, and the heavy breathing of another person.

Nick listened as Monroe calmed his breathing and turned back to him. He couldn't suppress the flinch when he felt Monroe reach for him.

Monroe froze and tempered his movements. "Easy, man, it's just me. He's gone. I'm just going to help you up, okay?"

Nick nodded, unable to speak. He was trembling in shock as Monroe gently lifted him to his feet.

The full weight of his situation had slammed home. He was blind. There had been an intruder in his home; someone had come to hurt him. And Juliette. There had been nothing he could have done to protect himself and Juliette. If Monroe hadn't been there, the intruder would have killed him, then gone upstairs and killed Juliette.

"Hey, easy," Monroe's voice soothed. Nick allowed the wolf to guide him back to the living room and settle him on the couch. "You okay, man? You're white as a sheet."

Nick's jaw worked up and down before any sound came out. "I-I . . . wh-what are you doing here? I thought you went home?"

"I did," Monroe admitted. "But I sensed something was wrong when I left, so I grabbed a couple things and came back. I had a feeling you'd need some help. Looks like I was right."

"Th-Thank you," Nick said shakily. "If you hadn't been here . . ."

"Well, someone needs to keep an eye on you," Monroe replied, brushing off Nick's thanks. "My God, what the hell were you thinking? I told you to stay put, and you _followed_ me towards the danger? What the hell, man?"

"I couldn't let you face him by yourself," Nick answered weakly.

Nick could _almost_ see Monroe roll his eyes. "I can handle myself, Nick. Though I appreciate the backup, the next time I tell you to stay put, do me a favor and stay put."

"No promises," Nick mumbled. Weariness swept over him, leaving him sagging against the couch.

He felt Monroe shift. "Listen, Nick, I had an idea. You can say no. Don't feel pressured to say yes, but don't think you have to say no either, okay?"

"Sounds interesting already," Nick replied.

"You need a hand while your eyes recover, obviously," Monroe stated. "Juliette's great, but she's heading back to work. I have doubts you can keep yourself out of trouble while she's gone. And if that guy comes back, you're going to need someone who knows about the Grimm stuff to help you and be your eyes."

"What are you saying?" Nick asked.

Monroe took a deep breath. "What if I stay here until your sight comes back?"

Nick stilled, looking towards where he knew Monroe would be. "You'd do that?"

"Well, yeah," Monroe replied. "Friends, right?"

Nick frowned slightly. "I know how much you value your privacy and your territory," he said. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

"I think it's the only option that works out for everyone," Monroe told him. "Besides, it's only temporary, right?"

Nick smiled. "Right. Monroe, I can't thank you enough-."

Monroe laid a hand on Nick's arm, stopping the thanks. "Don't thank me yet, man. Let's wait until it's all over first. You might be regretting this decision by then."

Nick stood. "I'll get you set up in the guest room upstairs."

Monroe stood also. "Don't bother. I'll go ahead and sleep down here on the couch tonight. But I'll let _you_ explain to Juliette why I'm here when she sees me in the morning."

"It's a deal," Nick replied. "Really, Monroe. Thank you."

Monroe turned Nick toward the stairs and herded him in that direction. "Don't mention it. Really. I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

Monroe waited for Nick to make his way up the stairs to his bedroom. The instant he heard the door close quietly, Monroe turned and headed for the front door.

This wasn't his territory, but it couldn't hurt letting other creatures know that he was there, and that he was guarding the property.

Marking Nick's house as part of his territory provided Nick with a little bit of added protection. Nick probably wouldn't be happy if he found out what Monroe was planning to do, but what Nick didn't know couldn't hurt him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Give me one reason why this is not a good idea."

"Aside from the obvious physical impairment? How about because you're an idiot?"

Nick folded his arms, dangerously close to pouting. Juliette's head swiveled back and forth between the two men, still trying to absorb the nature of their unusual friendship.

To her credit, she didn't hesitate when she came downstairs to find Monroe folding blankets and laying them neatly on their living room couch. She had smiled brightly at him and asked him how he took his coffee before continuing into the kitchen.

Nick had stumbled down on his own half an hour later to find the two of them chuckling over coffee at the dining room table. His insatiable curiosity rushed to the fore, but no amount of badgering would prompt Juliette or Monroe to reveal what they were talking about.

"Maybe we should hear him out . . ." Juliette tried to soothe Nick's ruffled feathers.

Monroe snorted and folded his own arms, sparing her a glance before fixing a stern glare on the Grimm. "He's blind. And yes, I'll admit that he's doing well getting around here, but this is his _home_. You want a reason why this is _not_ a good idea? I'd like a reason why you think it _is_."

Juliette tried again. "I don't like the idea of Nick going into work either, but if he's just going to stay at his desk-."

"No."

"Excuse me!" Nick interjected. "I'm blind, not deaf. I'm sitting right here trying to figure out how my best friend and girlfriend have managed to side together against me."

Monroe straightened slightly. "Best friend? Really?"

Color rose in Nick's cheeks, but he fought past the sudden embarrassment. "Don't distract me. I want to go into work. I can help."

"Help do what, exactly?" Monroe asked, some of his earlier frustration gone with the declaration of friendship. "What do you think you can do if you go in today? And your partner and boss will probably just send you home when they see you. Not to mention that if something happens to you and you bang your head or something, this little temporary thing might become more serious. Do I really need to continue?"

Nick dropped his arms, reaching out for his mug. Juliette silently slid it into his hands before he could knock it to the floor. She shot Monroe a warning look, though whether it was to warn him against telling Nick what she had done or to rein him in on his fervent argument, Monroe wasn't sure.

"Look, I don't expect either of you to understand, but I can't just sit here waiting for my sight to come back," Nick admitted. "I need to do something- my eyes are what's the problem. My mind is fine, and I need to keep working."

Monroe sighed heavily. "So what's the plan? What are we doing?"

Nick lifted his chin as if to look at Monroe, but his flat gaze fell a little too low. "We?"

Monroe rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're hell-bent on going into work, someone is going to have to take you. Juliette has to go to work too, so that leaves me."

"Monroe, I can't ask you to give up your time-," Nick began to protest.

"I already told you yesterday," Monroe cut him off. "I'm here to help until your sight comes back, so if you are bound and determined to go to work, then I'll make sure you get there in one piece."

A grin spread across Nick's face, lightening his features. "Great! I'll go get ready!"

Juliette gave Monroe a thankful smile as well as she stood and followed Nick up the stairs. Monroe preened a little bit, then physically shook himself. He rose and gathered the abandoned coffee cups, carrying them into the kitchen. If he was going to be transporting Nick to the police department, he needed to get started on some preparations.

* * *

><p>He watched from a distance as the Blutbad guided the Grimm from the house and into the Blutbad's car. Rage swirled within him, tempered only by his desire for vengeance.<p>

He had been so close to completing his mission. The young Grimm was vulnerable to attack; it was supposed to be an easy kill. If the Blutbad hadn't come back . . .

He shook himself back to the present. From what he observed, it appeared as though the Blutbad had become the Grimm's only personal watchdog. If he wanted to get to the Grimm, he'd have to come up with a different plan.

* * *

><p>Monroe's head turned left and right, eyes scanning his surroundings. He knew that the double takes and raised eyebrows weren't directed solely at him, but he couldn't help but feel on edge. He glanced over his shoulder at Nick. "Are you <em>sure<em> I can't change your mind about this? I know this really nice coffee shop that has live music that we can listen to instead."

Nick's hand tightened on Monroe's left sleeve, his jaw set. "I'm sure, Monroe. As sure as I was the last six times you asked." His brow furrowed. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Monroe sighed and led Nick into the bullpen. "No, man. Just don't like all these guys staring at me like it was _my_ idea to drag you in here. You owe me for this."

He maneuvered around two desks and easily sidestepped a chair, Nick trailing behind. A small voice in the back of Monroe's mind marveled at how much trust the young Grimm placed in him. He wondered yet again if Nick's blind faith in the goodness of the people around him would cause him trouble later on.

Monroe glanced back at Nick again and paused, seeing the look of consternation on Nick's face. "What? What's wrong?"

Nick shook his head, still frowning. "Nothing. It's just . . . there's a lot more noise here to filter through. I'll be okay."

"We're almost to your desk," Monroe told him softly. "Although what you're planning on doing when you get there is still a mystery to me."

The Blutbad turned to take Nick to his desk, only to have someone block his path. Monroe found himself looking into a set of very disapproving eyes belonging to Hank Griffin.

"He made me do it," Monroe blurted out, pointing back at Nick.

Nick frowned, still clutching Monroe's sleeve. "Hank?"

Hank's eyes slid past Monroe and settled on Nick. "How did you know it was me? Can you see me?"

"Your cologne," Nick replied simply. "Why are you bothering Monroe?"

"Who said anything about bothering him?" Hank asked innocently.

"Hank, I'm still attached to him," Nick reminded his partner. "I felt him tense up when you appeared. Not to mention how quick he was to shift blame on an invalid. Thanks for that, by the way."

"You're his partner," Monroe told him. "He won't take out his frustration on _you_."

"Don't be too sure about that," Hank stated. "What are you doing here, Nick? The captain put you on medical leave until your sight came back."

"I don't need to be on leave," Nick insisted. "I can still work."

"Believe me, man, if there was any way I could push my paperwork off onto you, it'd already be on your desk," Hank said. "But there's just not a whole lot for you to do right now."

"There has to be _something_ I can do," Nick argued.

"Well, how about we get you to your desk first and figure it out from there?" Monroe interjected smoothly, not at all comfortable with being in the middle of the bullpen. Not that he expected anything to happen, but he and Nick were out in the open and the wolf in Monroe was not satisfied with having them in an area that was not easily defensible.

Monroe carefully walked around Hank and crossed the remaining distance to Nick's desk. Reaching for Nick's hands, Monroe placed them carefully on the arms of his chair. Using touch to guide himself, Nick seated himself in his chair while Monroe hovered over him.

"All right, I'm going to get some coffee while you get yourself settled," Monroe told him. "Don't leave this spot until I get back."

Confusion shone plainly on Nick's face. "The coffee pot is on the other side of the room. Just how much trouble do you think I'm going to get in?"

Monroe snorted. "I don't think you want me to answer that," he said. "And I'm not drinking that stuff. There's no telling _what_ might be in there. No, I'm getting coffee down the road at Starbucks. I'll be back in about half an hour. I'm serious, man. Don't get up for anything."

"I hear you," Nick assured him. "No rush. Take your time."

Monroe patted Nick's back and, with a parting glance to Hank, strode out of the bullpen.

Hank perched on the edge of Nick's desk, observing the younger man as he felt around for the items and cataloging their location. "I'm not so sure that this is one of your better ideas, man."

"Come on, Hank, how much trouble can I get into just sitting here?" Nick asked.

"You?" Hank asked. "A lot, man. Especially when you start to get bored and go looking for something to do."

Nick's lips quirked into an amused smile. "You guys worry too much. I'll be fine."

"First time I've ever been accused of that," Hank commented. "Well, you're here. What's your plan?"

Nick was saved from answering by the arrival of his captain. "Nick? I thought I put you on medical leave until your sight came back."

Nick turned in his chair in the direction of Renard's voice, tilting his head back as if to meet Renard's penetrating gaze. "You did, sir. But I'm going crazy just sitting around the house with nothing to do. I thought I'd come in and see if there was anything I could do here."

Nick could practically _feel_ the looks being exchanged over his head between his captain and his partner, and he rolled his eyes in frustration. He braced himself to argue his case against Renard.

"Actually, I do have something you can do for me," Renard stated.

"You do?" Hank and Nick replied together.

Renard's smiled faintly. "Yes, I do. Hank, if you'll help your partner into the conference room, I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

Nick startled slightly when Hank's hand suddenly grasped his arm, pulling him up to his feet. Over the last few days, Juliette and Monroe had made a habit of telling him when they were going to touch him so as not to startle him, and he wasn't used to just being grabbed and dragged around. He stumbled slightly as he tried to follow Hank back through the bullpen.

"Easy, man!" he said, latching onto Hank's arm. "I can't move quite as fast as before."

"Sorry." Hank slowed his pace, allowing Nick to reassert himself. Nick glanced sideways to his partner. "Will you tell Monroe where I am so he doesn't tear the place apart looking for me?"

Hank gave his partner a funny look. "You know, you never really explained just how the two of you became such good buddies. Especially after you busted into his house, tackled him, and accused him of kidnapping."

Nick shrugged a shoulder, discomfort rising in him. "I can't explain it; we just started talking, and I found out he's an okay guy. Just make sure he knows, okay? And don't give him a hard time?"

"Who, me?" Hank asked innocently as he steered Nick into the conference room and settled him at the table.

Renard and Wu entered minutes later, carrying a laptop and several disks which were placed on the table before Nick.

"Hank, a call just came in," Renard stated. "I need you to get to 5th and West. We've got a homicide reported, and I want you to take lead on it. I'll meet you there once I'm done here."

Hank nodded and left. Nick frowned.

"What about me?" he asked. "I can help."

"Absolutely not," Renard vetoed firmly. "You're going to stay here with Sergeant Wu and help go back over witness statements from the Caldwell robbery. Kerry and James need a fresh set of ears; they're pretty sure one of the witnesses is lying, but they're not sure who. You're going to listen to their statements and give them your input."

Nick sagged slightly, disappointed at not being able to back up his partner, but grateful all the same for the opportunity to do something worthwhile. "Yes, sir."

Renard squeezed Nick's shoulder and, with a nod to Wu, followed after Hank.

"All right, Nick," Wu said, bringing up the first recording and putting the headphones in Nick's hands. "Let's see what your spidey senses tell us."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Renard frowned down at the body lying before him, deep in thought. His officers and detective efficiently closed off the scene, gathered evidence, and spoke with witnesses all around him, but Renard ignored all of that. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the body.

A young man; part-time graduate student while he interned at a law firm, but Renard knew that hadn't been the reason he'd been killed.

The captain's sharp eyes traced over the thick black hair and wide, unseeing blue eyes that belonged to the young man before settling on the gruesome slash that had nearly severed the young man's head from his body.

Anger began to well up from deep in the pit of his stomach. He had had suspicions of a Reaper entering his territory, and the Wesen community's rumor mill had fueled those thoughts. Now, with an innocent man lying dead before him, he had his proof.

Feeling eyes on him, Renard lifted his head and scanned the crowd. His mind immediately took in and dismissed the people around him and their stunned faces. Turning slowly in a full circle, he paused when he saw an alley to his right and a dark figure ducking out of sight.

Pushing through the crowd and ignoring the indignant cries, Renard headed straight for the alley, his anger beginning to bubble over. One hand strayed to his holster, unlatching it and preparing to grab his gun.

Hesitating at the corner, Renard drew his gun and listened for any sound coming from the alley. Hearing nothing, he turned the corner and aimed his gun.

"I know you're still here," he said, his voice tempered and even. "Did you honestly think I would allow him to be here?"

"You do not control him," a disembodied voice answered back. Renard tried to pinpoint the source, but with no luck. "He needs to be neutralized."

"He is not a threat to you," Renard replied. "He is under my protection."

"He is a Grimm," the voice replied.

"Irrelevant," Renard countered. "Whatever challenge you hoped to make was rendered immaterial when you murdered an innocent man to get to him. You will pay for the offense."

"It will not end there," the voice stated. "If you do not allow me to complete my mission, more will die. Deliver the Grimm to me by sundown and I will leave your territory in peace."

"I do not answer to you or your kind," Renard snapped.

"If you do not, then others will answer _for_ you," the voice replied.

There was no other sound, but Renard knew that the Reaper had gone. Putting his gun back in his holster, he wiped a hand across his face. He had no intention of sacrificing Nick to the Reaper, but the stakes for defiance had just been raised.

* * *

><p>Monroe returned to the precinct with two coffees and paused in confusion when he found Nick's empty desk and the detective in question nowhere to be found. Setting the coffees down, he glanced around the bullpen, hoping for some clue as to where the young Grimm had gone.<p>

"Seriously?" he muttered to himself. "'How much trouble do you think I'm going to get in?' he says. 'Don't get up for anything' I tell him. I leave for thirty minutes and the guy completely disregards what I tell him. It's like he doesn't even listen."

"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity," a voice spoke up from behind him.

Monroe startled and spun around to find Nick standing behind him, one hand attached to Wu's arm and wearing an amused smirk. Monroe glared at Nick, which went completely over the young man's head.

"Something I didn't do until I met _you_, so I'm thinking meeting Nick Burkhardt has to be the first sign," Monroe snapped back, irritated at having been surprised.

Wu snickered and led Nick over to his chair. "I'll pass along the information, Rain Man. You sit here and figure out how else you can work without your eyes."

Monroe's eyes narrowed. "What did you do? And didn't I tell you not to get up?"

Nick sniffed the air, his hand reaching out towards the coffee cups on his desk. "That for me?"

"One of them is," Monroe replied, moving one of the cups into Nick's hand. "And don't change the subject. Where were you?"

Nick took a sip of his coffee. "Listening to witness statements. I had to go to a quieter room to do it. Don't worry, I had someone babysitting me the whole time."

"Listening to witness statements?" Monroe asked. "Why?"

"Captain wanted me to find out which one was hiding something," Nick replied. He waved a hand dismissively. "This is good, Monroe, thanks."

Monroe rolled his eyes. Keeping Nick on topic was what Monroe imagined herding cats must be like. "So, did you find out which witness was hiding something?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, it didn't take long at all. It was a little harder since I couldn't watch their reactions, but hearing the tension in their voices and how they responded helped."

"Good," Monroe replied. "So, now that you've had the chance to do some work, are you ready to go home?"

"I've only been here for a few minutes," Nick complained.

"Whining doesn't become you, man," Monroe told him. "What's next, then?"

"Next, I want to convince Hank to let me work on the homicide that was just called in," Nick stated.

"And what exactly are you thinking you can do to help him?" Monroe asked.

"I could . . . um . . . make phone calls," Nick stated. "And I can talk with Hank about the evidence and help him come up with theories."

Monroe settled himself into a chair beside Nick's desk. "In that case, Nick, you got anything interesting to read around here?"

Guilt flashed across Nick's face. "You don't have to stay, Monroe. I appreciate everything you've done. If you want to head back to your place and get some work done, I'd understand. I can get Hank to take me home."

Monroe glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was within earshot, then leaned closer to Nick. "Part of the deal, Nick. Until your sight comes back, you're stuck with me. Besides, I left you for half an hour and you vanished on me. There's no telling what would happen if I left you alone for the afternoon."

Nick smiled faintly. "I owe you one."

Monroe snorted. "You owe me a hundred, man. I'm keeping a tally."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: Sorry for the hiatus. You would not _believe_ what has happened in the last month! By the time RL finally slowed down, my computer died on me and I had to get it replaced. Fortunately, with the help of some amazing friends, I was able to recover chapter ten!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Ten<span>

Life over the next several days settled into a comforting routine for Nick. Every morning, he would wake up and find the clothes Juliette set out for him for the day to save him the embarrassment of being mismatched. Once dressed, Nick would head down the stairs and sit at the dining room table, where Monroe had breakfast waiting for him. Light conversation peppered the meal before Juliette left for the vet clinic, leaving Monroe to bundle Nick into his car and drive him to the station.

Upon arriving at the station, Monroe would lead Nick to his desk amidst friendly greetings that included both men. As soon as Nick was settled with whatever project Renard managed to find to keep Nick occupied, Monroe would excuse himself to take care of his own errands.

Nick spent most of the time at his desk, working hard to prove to the other cops, and to himself, that he could still contribute. Still be a valuable member of the team. He was deeply grateful to his captain for finding him projects to work on that weren't simply ways to keep him out from underfoot. They were assignments that needed doing to help with active cases, and Nick felt for the first time since the accident that his future wasn't quite so bleak.

One thing Nick was still unsuccessful in doing was convincing Hank to let him help out on the homicide case he was working on, which had rapidly become a serial killer case. Half of the precinct seemed to be working on it, including Renard. Three young men had been killed, their throats deeply slashed. No one had been able to find any connection between the three victims. In spite of this, Nick could not convince Hank to let him help.

Surprisingly, Renard was vehemently against the idea. Nick knew that Hank's reticence was due mostly to Hank not knowing how Nick could help (as well as his not wanting to put Nick in anything remotely resembling danger), but Renard wanted the young Grimm nowhere near the case. Nick had the feeling that there was more to the case than Renard was letting on, but with no proof, Nick couldn't confront him. So he contented himself with the work he was given.

Monroe usually returned mid-afternoon to pick Nick up and take him to the park for fresh air. Nick appreciated the time with his friend, getting to know each other a little more as they walked the familiar path, chatting easily as if they'd known each other for years. Part of him hoped they could continue after his sight returned.

Around dinnertime, Monroe and Nick would return back to Nick's house where Juliette would have dinner ready for them. The three would sit and talk about their days over the home cooked meal, clear the dishes, then relax in front of the television for a few hours before retiring for the night.

A week passed in relative peace when, early one morning, Nick's frantic calls sent Juliette and Monroe scrambling up the steps, trying not to trip over each other in their haste to reach Nick.

Nick was hovering in the doorway to his bedroom, an excited grin on his face. Monroe and Juliette skidded to a stop before him, hearts pounding and eyes wide with fear.

"What's wrong?" Juliette demanded. "Are you all right?"

"Did you fall?" Monroe chimed in. "Cut yourself on a rusty nail? What?"

Nick's unfocused eyes darted between the two. "I-I can see!"

"You can?" A grin spread across Juliette's face. "Nick, that's wonderful!"

Monroe narrowed his eyes. He wasn't convinced. "_What_ can you see, exactly?"

Juliette's head swiveled to Monroe, then back to Nick to take in Nick's off-set gaze.

Nick's enthusiasm dimmed only slightly. "Er . . . I woke up, and I was able to see shapes. It's still dark, mostly, but I can see some lighter blobs. But I can see more than before! My sight's coming back!"

Monroe allowed himself a small smile. "That's great, man. See? Only a matter of time before the rest of it comes back."

Juliette wrapped Nick in a tight hug. "That's great news, Nick, but don't overdo it, okay? Let it come back on its own."

Nick returned the firm embrace, eyes still darting around as if hungrily devouring new images. Monroe rolled his own eyes and shook his head.

"Telling him not to overdo it is like telling the sun not to rise in the morning," he stated. "Come on, man, breakfast is getting cold."

Juliette withdrew and pulled Nick back into the bedroom to help him get dressed for the day while Monroe headed back downstairs to the kitchen.

Nick's improved sight was welcome news to all of them, but that also meant that Nick wanted to do more things for himself. As a result, Nick and Monroe were an hour late to the precinct.

His tardiness didn't bother Nick in the slightest. A bright grin adorned his features as his head turned left and right, greeting his coworkers as Monroe doggedly pulled him to his desk.

There were more police officers than normal gathered near Hank's desk as Monroe sat Nick down at his desk. A feeling of unease swept through Monroe, and instead of leaving, he hovered protectively behind Nick.

Nick frowned at the crowd, his brow furrowed as he tried to make out distinct images. "Hank? What's going on?"

Hank broke away from the crowd. "Hey, man. There was another body found early this morning. Same MO; Captain's in a meeting with the mayor right now. I think they're talking about pulling in the feds if we don't get a break soon."

"All the more reason you should let me help," Nick insisted. "One more cop can't hurt. And I can help more now; I woke up and some of my sight came back."

A smile broke out on Hank's weary features. "That's great, man! I knew you'd get it back."

Monroe snorted behind him. "It's not back all the way yet; don't let him fool you."

Nick tossed a half-hearted glare over his shoulder. "How is that helpful?"

"It's very helpful," Monroe shot back. "You're still having trouble seeing, and you have a propensity for jumping headfirst into dangerous situations. I'm helping your partner keep you out of trouble."

Nick shook his head playfully and turned back to Hank, casting a nod at the crowd. "So is that why the board is out?"

Hank nodded. "Yeah; maybe if we put everything up together, we can see something we've missed."

Monroe's interest perked. "Oh, I've seen those on those TV cop shows. The board with the victim's pictures, and a giant map with yarn attached to where they were found, right?" He craned his neck around, trying to glimpse the board through the small crowd of officers.

Hank quirked an eyebrow at Nick, whose amused expression focused on the Blutbad. Monroe ignored the exchange, moving closer to the board in curiosity.

Sharp brown eyes caught one victim's image on the board; a young man's driver's license picture. A feeling of foreboding filled Monroe, and his eyes sought out the other images.

Four young men. Dark hair, blue eyes.

A growl began to rumble deep in Monroe's chest, and he retreated back to Nick's desk, one hand falling on Nick's shoulder and gripping it tightly.

"Monroe?" Nick asked, sensing the change. "What's wrong?"

Hank's penetrating gaze scanned Monroe's face. "Do you know the victims?"

Monroe swallowed the snarl that tried to fight its way free and shook his head. "No, just . . ."

"What?" Nick demanded.

Monroe looked down at his friend, feeling his protective instincts beginning to rise to the fore. "Nick . . . the victims . . . they look like _you_."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Nick's mouth dropped open slightly in stunned silence, his mind blanking at Monroe's blunt comment.

Hank's head swiveled back and forth between Monroe and the board, a thoughtful frown creasing his face. "You know, now that you mention it, Nick _does_ fit the type this guy seems to go after."

A germ of an idea twisted its way through Nick's sluggish brain, and he straightened under Monroe's hand, his head turning to Hank.

Monroe's hand tightened. "Don't even think about it."

Nick frowned up at him. "What? I haven't even said anything yet!"

"And let's keep it that way," Monroe shot back.

Annoyance flashed across Nick's face. "You don't know what I was going to say."

"The hell I don't," Monroe scoffed.

"How could you possibly-," Nick began.

"You mean to tell me that the thought of you offering yourself up as bait in order to help your partner catch these guys _never_ crossed your self-sacrificing, devil-may-care mind?" Monroe cut him off. "Please, Nick. Give me _a little_ credit."

Nick's cheeks colored slightly, but the determined set of his jaw told Monroe that the battle had barely begun.

"Guys, the whole point is moot anyway," Hank carefully interjected.

Monroe and Nick turned as one to look at him. "Why?" Nick asked, his tone filled with suspicion.

"Because even _if_ you had your entire eyesight back, _with_ the added benefit of visions of the future, you'll offer yourself up as bait _over my dead body_," Hank told Nick firmly.

Monroe allowed himself to swell with triumph at Hank's words, feeling reassured that he wasn't going to be alone in the battle to save Nick from himself.

"Hank, you just said that you need a new break in the case and soon," Nick argued. "We have to use every available opportunity to get that break, and if that means being out in the open for a little while to draw this guy out, then what's the harm?"

Hank and Monroe shared commiserating looks over Nick's oblivious head.

A small commotion near the entrance to the bullpen drew their attention away from Nick. Captain Renard came storming into the room, his face set and determined as he strode towards his office. He was nearly there when he paused and headed towards Nick and Hank's desks. Monroe tensed up behind Nick, his hand tightening again on Nick's shoulder. Something about Renard set Monroe's teeth on edge, but to his credit he did not back down.

"Any new leads?" he demanded of Hank.

"No," Hank admitted.

"Yes," Nick spoke up doggedly.

Renard's shrewd eyes darted between the two detectives. "Well? Which is it?"

Hank narrowed his eyes at Nick and sighed. "Our victims appear to share several characteristics with Nick, who has decided to offer himself up on a silver platter to draw the killer out."

Renard's gaze focused on the almost-hopeful look on the young detective's face. A part of him admired Nick's courage and dedication, but the larger part of him did not relish the idea of Nick being placed in the very position he had been working so hard to keep him out of.

"No," he stated simply.

Monroe let out a quiet sigh of relief, sagging slightly.

Nick refused to be deterred. "Is this because of my eyes? Because my sight came back this morning-."

"Mostly," Monroe muttered.

"And besides, I don't really need to do anything other than sit out in the open to draw this guy out," Nick persisted. "I can do this, Captain. I _want_ to do this."

Renard shook his head. "It's too risky, even if you were one hundred percent. I'm glad to hear that your sight is improving, but I'm not going to put you in harm's way without knowing more about this guy."

"But sir-," Nick protested.

"My decision is final," Renard stated firmly. "In fact, why don't you take today off? Take it easy and get used to your sight coming back. You've done good work this week."

Nick felt waves of disbelief and mutiny rolling through him, competing for dominance. He settled for being slightly numb as Monroe pulled him to his feet and pushed him away from his desk, where Renard was beginning to rally the rest of the detectives.

Monroe guided Nick back out into the parking lot and settled him into the passenger seat. He knew that an explosion from the young Grimm was inevitable, and his mind was racing through all the things he knew of that would defuse Nick.

To his surprise, Nick curled into himself as Monroe started up his car and steered it into the morning traffic. "Nick?"

Nick didn't acknowledge Monroe.

"He was right, you know," Monroe pressed. "Even with perfect vision, it's too risky. What if something went wrong? It would only take a second to make you a part of that awful collection of photos on the board."

"You'd have had my back," Nick pointed out quietly.

A small part of Monroe warmed at the faith in the comment. "Always, man, but even I'm not infallible."

The two fell into a contemplative silence as Monroe guided the car through the traffic and down Nick's street. He pulled into Nick's driveway and shut off the car, exiting and moving around to the front to meet Nick halfway.

The two made it carefully to the front steps when Monroe suddenly came to a halt, grabbing at Nick. Monroe shoved the Grimm behind him as he sniffed the air.

"Monroe?" Nick asked, one hand twisting anxiously in the back of Monroe's shirt. "What is it?"

Crimson bled into Monroe's eyes as he scented blood in the air.

A plain brown box sat on the welcome mat in front of Nick's front door.

"Monroe?" Nick repeated, tugging on the man's shirt.

"Nick, I need you to get back in the car for a minute," Monroe said.

"What?" Nick replied, incredulous. "No! Tell me what's going on!"

"Nick, I don't want to argue with you," Monroe said.

"Then don't," Nick told him. "This is my house. I want to know what's going on."

Monroe sighed, silently cursing the tenacity and determination of Grimm in general and Nick Burkhardt in particular. "Fine. There's a box on your step."

Monroe could _feel_ the puzzlement emanating from the younger man. "And?"

"It smells bad," Monroe admitted.

"Bad?" Nick echoed. "Bad like what? Like rotting food? Like old cheese?"

"Like death," Monroe stated.

A pause. "I guess we'd better check it out, then."

Careful to keep himself between Nick and the mysterious box, Monroe led the way up the steps and over to the box. The smell of blood and gore was an old friend to the Blutbad; an unwanted friend. He fought against his instincts raging below the surface and crouched down beside the box.

"Is there anything on the outside?" Nick asked.

Monroe studied the box. "No. It's a plain brown box with packing paper wrapped around it. No name or address or anything like that. I'm going to open it, okay?"

"Kay." Nick sat down beside Monroe, glaring at the box as if the extra effort would make the image much clearer to him. Monroe carefully unwrapped the package and pulled apart the top flaps, peering inside.

"Well?" Nick asked impatiently.

Monroe swallowed thickly and closed the flaps. "You need to call your partner and your boss and get them out here. Like, yesterday."

"What is it?" Nick asked, fumbling for his cell phone.

"It's the next victim in their case," Monroe answered. "Or, at least, his head."

Nick didn't say anything more as he worked to get Hank on the phone. Monroe knew Nick would be busy trying to explain the mysterious box to his partner, but he wondered if the young Grimm would reach the same conclusions he was drawing. One conclusion in particular made Monroe very on edge.

Nick bore a startling resemblance to the victims in the serial killer case, but it was beginning to look more and more as though that simple fact wasn't just a coincidence.

Even worse, it appeared as though the Reaper had found a way of contacting Nick after all.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Angry didn't even begin to describe the wild rush of emotion threatening to consume Renard as the police captain guided his car through traffic towards Nick's home.

Ever since the Reaper had taken his first victim, Renard had spent his every waking moment trying to track him down and anticipate his move. Coordinating the Wesen under his command to help him in finding the Reaper as well as the men under his command at the police department had taken a lot of his time and resources, as well as keeping the mayor up to date.

Keeping his Grimm out of the loop had been equally difficult. Nick had been chomping at the bit to become involved in the case, and Renard had no doubt that the minute the young man had all of the evidence before him, he would figure out who was responsible very quickly. Coming up with other projects to keep Nick busy was just as important to Renard as getting the rest of the department on the trail of the killer.

Nick's call to his partner told Renard that all of his efforts this past week had completely been undone. The Reaper had chosen to involve the young man against Renard's wishes. That he had chosen to do so with yet another victim was merely one straw of many on the poor camel's broken back.

Renard turned onto Nick's street and slowed, seeing several police vehicles already there with lights flashing. Renard parked in the first available spot he found and stepped out of his car, scanning the taped off front yard and crowd of curious onlookers for his detective.

It took a moment, but Renard's piercing gaze tracked Nick down. An unexpected smile of amusement tugged at the corner of his lips at what he saw.

Nick was sitting in the passenger seat of a yellow VW Beetle, arms crossed and deep frown on his face indicating a full-fledged pout. Standing over him with arms crossed and what could only be described as a look of fond exasperation was Monroe. Hank was next to Monroe, looking down at his notebook as he scribbled something down. Renard headed towards them.

"Gentlemen," Renard greeted. "What have we got here?"

Hank looked up at his captain's arrival. "Well, aside from the head of our killer's next victim in a box on Nick's front step, Monroe here just told me about a home invasion from a week ago that Nick conveniently forgot to report."

Renard's head snapped to focus on the young man. "Home invasion?"

"We have no evidence that the two are related," Nick stated; from his tone, it wasn't for the first time, either.

"And no evidence that they are unrelated either," Hank shot back.

"Start at the beginning," Renard said firmly.

Monroe obliged him. "It was a week ago. I was visiting Nick after he told me about losing his sight, and someone broke into his house. We managed to fight him off, but he had a, uh . . . this big knife."

Nick curled in on himself slightly, tightening his arms around himself as if sensing the glares of annoyance directed his way from his partner and his boss. "I didn't report it because we had nothing to go on. He never came back."

"Until today, apparently," Monroe said.

"You can't be sure it's the same guy," Nick argued.

"A serial killer is out cutting people's throats; people who look like _you_, and leaves one of their heads on your step," Monroe pointed out. "I might not have proof, but everything we _do_ have seems to point that way."

"My question is, why Nick?" Hank asked. "Why has he singled Nick out? Is it someone from one of Nick's past cases? And if he's after Nick, why did he only try that one time? Why not come back?"

"I haven't been left alone since I lost my sight," Nick admitted, sighing in defeat. He dropped his arms to his lap. "Someone's been with me, helping me, this whole time. He's probably been waiting to get me alone, and got impatient enough to drop off the box."

"Makes sense," Renard agreed. "And we'll talk later about withholding something like this, Detective."

Nick wilted slightly. "Yes, sir."

"In the meantime, let's figure out how we can use this information to help our investigation," Renard continued. "Has Forensics taken the box yet?"

"Just took off before you got here," Hank answered. "They said they'll put a rush on the results for us. We've got guys interviewing the neighbors, but it's the middle of a work day, which means there aren't many people hanging around that might have seen anything."

"If he's really after me, like you seem to think, then why don't we get him to come to us?" Nick spoke up tentatively. "He's probably been watching me. Leave me on my own for awhile and see if he decides to take the bait."

"Absolutely not!"

"Hell, no!"

"Are you insane?"

Monroe, Hank, and Renard all looked at each other as their responses collided with each other, their jumbled words raining down on Nick. Nick clenched his jaw and tried again.

"Look," he said forcefully. "This guy is killing innocent men, probably because he can't get near enough to me to do the job he set out to do. You all have spent a week trying to track him down and haven't gotten any closer. I'm sorry you don't agree with this plan, but I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

Nick's heartfelt argument gave the rest of the men pause.

"Besides," Nick added. "He isn't going to stop until he gets to me. If it's all the same to the rest of you, I'd rather it be sooner rather than later, and with half the department as backup instead of all on my own."

Hank snorted. "Half the department? I'm pretty sure we could get the entire precinct on this."

Nick perked up. "Does that mean we're doing this?"

Hank deferred to Renard, who nodded reluctantly.

"We're doing this," Renard agreed. "But!" he continued, seeing the mixture of relief and determination settle over Nick's features. "We do this my way. You will do everything I say. I will _not_ have you be placed at any more risk than is absolutely necessary."

Nick nodded. "Yes, sir."

"First things first," Renard said. "We need to secure Ms. Silverton for the time being. I'll have her picked up and escorted to a safe house under twenty-four hour guard until this is all over. Nick, you'll need to pack her a bag for a few days so she won't have to come back here. Hank, let's head inside to plan out how to handle Nick's protection detail. I don't want any slipups on this."

"I, uh, I'd like to help," Monroe spoke up.

Renard's eyes focused on Monroe, unsettling the Blutbad. "You've been an immense help to my detective, and you have my thanks for that. However, I cannot justify putting an unarmed civilian at risk and in harm's way."

Monroe knew there was no use arguing with the captain. That didn't stop him from planning to become involved on his own, though.

Renard cast a scrutinizing eye around the neighborhood as if hunting for their killer. "Let's get to work, gentlemen. The sooner we catch this guy, the sooner we can get back to normal."

"Or as normal as it ever gets around here, anyway," Hank muttered in agreement.

TBC

* * *

><p>Getting closer to the end! Thanks for following this far!<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

He narrowed his eyes, studying the one police vehicle remaining outside of the Grimm's home. His little 'surprise' for the young Grimm had been discovered faster than he had expected, but the swarm of human police had not been a surprise. No one had spared him a second glance as he blended in with other curious onlookers, though it had been tricky to remain hidden from Renard's sight. It had been worth the risk to overhear them planning a trap for him.

The trap was not unexpected; though he didn't know the details, just knowing that they were lying in wait for him was enough. The only decision he had to make now was whether or not to finish the Grimm off immediately, or make an example of him as a warning to Renard not to cross the Reapers or the Ferat again.

Withdrawing from the scene, the Reaper left to plot his next move.

* * *

><p>Nick fidgeted impatiently on his couch, toying with the remote control to his television. The TV was turned on to some kind of game, but his preoccupied mind kept him from even knowing which sport was playing.<p>

Everyone had finally left his house several hours ago, including Monroe. Nick had spent that time puttering around the house, trying to test his eyesight and focus on various objects. At most, the best he managed to do was give himself a headache, causing Nick to admit defeat and sit down in his living room.

The call from Juliette had helped to settle Nick down for a little while. His girlfriend had sounded understandably worried about his safety, but allowed herself to be mollified with the promise that several police officers were watching out for him. They had chatted for a time, her voice doing more to soothe Nick's nerves than anything else. It was hard for Nick to say goodbye and hang up.

If Nick was truly honest with himself, he knew that patience was not his strongest virtue. He was a man of action. The overwhelming need to be involved and to help others drove his actions. Sitting around and waiting for the action to come to him was almost too much for him to bear.

Nick's mind wandered over to Monroe. He knew that the Blutbad was not happy with being told that his time to help was at an end. Monroe had promised to help him until his sight returned; Nick didn't doubt that Monroe was somewhere nearby, keeping his own watch of Nick's house for any sign of danger.

A strange rattling sound drew Nick out of his thoughts. Adrenaline coursed through his system, tensing his muscles as he stood and carefully made his way to the back door. He strained his ears, listening for the sound again.

A sudden pounding on his front door made Nick jump in surprise. Cursing silently, Nick navigated his way to his front door. "Yeah?"

"Officer Larson, Detective," a voice replied. "My partner heard a noise in your backyard and went to investigate. He sent me to check on you. Is everything all right?"

Nick let out a faint smile and opened his door. "Yeah, I'm fine. I heard the sound too and was just about to check it out."

"You should let us take care of that stuff," Larson told him pointedly.

There was another sound from the backyard, louder this time. It sounded to Nick like a trash can being knocked over. He felt Larson's hand on his arm, gripping it tightly and pulling him out of his house.

"Detective, come with me," Larson said, his voice filled with urgency. "We need to get you out of here."

"I'll be fine," Nick said, but allowed himself to be pulled down his front steps. "You should go check on your partner."

"He's fine," Larson replied. "My duty is to get you to safety first."

A strange feeling brewed in Nick's stomach. Something about Larson's comment didn't sit right with him. "I'll be safer in my house," he tried again.

The hand on his arm tightened almost painfully. "He got to you there once, Detective. He can do it again."

Nick felt himself pushed into the seat of a car. "Where are we going? Where's the rest of the protection detail?"

He heard Larson run around to the driver's side of the car and settle into the seat beside him. "We're going somewhere safe. He won't find you, I promise. The others are going to your house now to set up a trap for him."

The feeling of unease grew in the pit of Nick's stomach. His instincts whispered to him if the 'he' that Larson talked about was the Reaper, or if it was someone else entirely.

"Larson?" he asked, hoping that his nervousness didn't reveal itself in his tone. "What about your partner, Kerry? How will he find us?"

"We have a prearranged meeting place for this very event," Larson assured him, steering the car away from Nick's house. "Don't worry."

Fear suddenly gripped Nick, freezing his blood to ice.

Whoever was sitting beside him, it wasn't Officer Larson.

* * *

><p>Monroe let out another curse as he tripped over, sending one of Nick's trash cans crashing to the ground. <em>So much for stealth<em> . . .

The Blutbad's nose was telling him that the Reaper was nearby, but try as he might, Monroe just couldn't seem to track him down. Strange movements coming from Nick's yard had drawn him closer and out of covert surveillance.

Regaining his footing, Monroe looked down at his feet to see what had tripped him. Horror slowly filled him as he recognized one of the police officers assigned to watch over Nick's house. The officer was lying on the ground, his chest a bloody mess. No sounds or signs of life reached Monroe.

Monroe hurried around the side of the house, praying that he wasn't too late. He came across another dark shape lying on the ground. He found the second officer near the front of the house, also clearly dead. Monroe's eyes barely had time to take in the name badge reading 'Larson' before Monroe tore around to the front step, finding the front door wide open.

"Nick!" Monroe bellowed, charging into the house. He called Nick's name, but his sharp ears told him what he already knew.

The Reaper had come and had taken Nick.

The Blutbad spared a thought for the protection detail that was supposed to be watching the house. Where the hell were all those cops who had promised to keep Nick safe?

Monroe spotted Nick's cell phone sitting on the coffee table in the living room and snatched it up. Fumbling through the address book, he called Hank, biting back his rising panic.

"He's gone!" Monroe cried the minute Hank answered, not giving the detective time to speak. "Nick's missing! The two guys you had watching the front of the house are dead! Where the hell is everyone? I thought you said Nick would be safe!"

"I'm down the road," Hank replied tersely. Monroe could hear a car door slam and knew Hank was running. "Teams, report in!"

Monroe listened to voices over Hank's walkie-talkie from Nick's cell phone and hung up. He shoved the phone into his pocket. He didn't have time to wait for Hank and the rest of the cops to arrive. He didn't know why the Reaper had taken Nick instead of just killing him outright, but whatever the reason, Monroe was grateful. That meant he had time to find his friend before the Reaper carried out his task.

Running back out of Nick's house, Monroe paused and scented the air, trying to track Nick and the Reaper. Mentally tracking the direction they had taken, Monroe took off.

His friend needed him.

* * *

><p>Sorry about the false alert some of you got for posting chapter 13. In my haste, I posted it and then realized that I had some gaping holes that needed fixing, so I deleted it and reworked it. I know you'll have questions about how the Reaper stole Nick away from under the cops' noses, but bear with me on this one.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Renard rubbed his forehead wearily, glancing at the time on the corner of his computer screen. It was long past time to go home, but with the Reaper threat still hanging over his detective's head, he found himself unable to leave. A glance through his window and into the bullpen told him that most of the homicide detectives felt the same way. He allowed himself a small swell of pride; the men who worked for him worked hard and were a credit to the police force.

His desk phone rang, bringing him back into focus. He picked up the receiver. "Renard."

"Captain, Nick is gone."

Renard shot to his feet at the comment. "_What?_"

Hank didn't falter over the line, even with all of the outrage funneled across the distance from his captain. "I don't know what happened. Everything was going fine. Larson and Taylor reported in for their shift and were doing a check of the grounds. We didn't know anything was wrong until Monroe called me. Near as we can figure, our killer impersonated either Larson or Taylor and lured Nick away."

"Where are Larson and Taylor?" Renard demanded, grabbing his badge and gun.

"Dead," Hank stated tonelessly. "Monroe's gone too."

"Get everyone on this," Renard barked. "I don't care if you have to wake them up or pull them off of other cases. I want every person with a badge looking for Nick. _Now_!"

He slammed the phone down and was about to storm out of his office to start his own search when his phone rang again. Renard almost ignored it, but thought better of it. "_What_?"

"You've already defied me and the Ferat once, Renard. Do not risk angering us again."

Renard felt his monumental control slip and only just managed to wrangle his anger in check. "Where is he?"

"Safe, for the time being," came the reply. "Mark my words, he _will_ die tonight. It's too dangerous to allow a Grimm to run free, even this one."

"If you have already decided to kill him, why have you taken him?" Renard asked in spite of himself.

"As a lesson to you and all who would defy the will of the Ferat. The Grimm's death will serve as a warning to those who try to rise above their place."

A soft click signaled the end of the conversation. Renard allowed the phone to slip from nerveless fingers, his mind spinning as it tried desperately to come up with a solution.

If the Reaper was hoping to use Nick as an example to all Wesen, then the discovery of the Grimm's body would have to be in a place where a lot of Wesen went. The problem was, Wesen were everywhere in the city. To find a public location where Nick would be sure to be discovered by Wesen . . .

Renard suddenly tensed. It was a wild thought, but he knew where the Reaper would take Nick. Quickly he dialed Hank's cell phone number.

"Hank, send several units to Waterfront Park. I just got a call from our killer, and I have a hunch that that's where he's headed."

Without waiting for a reply, Renard severed the connection and hurried out of his office, calling for the other detectives in the bullpen to follow him.

* * *

><p>Nick sat in the passenger seat of the car, his stomach roiling with nerves. Larson, or the man impersonating him, was standing just outside of the driver's side door. He had pulled to a stop and told Nick that he was calling his partner Kerry to let him know where they were.<p>

The simple comment cemented for Nick the truth that this man was not Larson. Nick didn't know Larson very well personally, but his real partner Taylor was a good friend. Nick sent up a silent prayer that both men were all right.

The driver's door opened, jarring Nick from his thoughts. "He'll be here soon. We're going to wait for him here."

"Where are we?" Nick asked, straining his ears to pick up any clue that would help him learn of his whereabouts.

"Waterfront Park," notLarson replied. "Let's go and wait on the bench down the path."

Nick nodded, unbuckling his seat belt and exiting the car. He fought to keep his face expressionless. As long as notLarson didn't know that Nick knew the truth, Nick still had a chance to escape.

The sun had set hours ago, which left Nick at the mercy of the killer walking beside him. The faint shadows he was able to see in the daylight had disappeared, leaving him once more in darkness. Nick's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he tried to come up with a plan.

"Here we are," notLarson said, pushing Nick down onto a bench. "Right out in the open. We'll be able to see anyone coming from a distance."

Nick sensed that his time was rapidly drawing to a close. "Hey, uh, Larson, can you find a bottle of water or something? All this excitement has left me kind of thirsty."

"We won't be here too much longer," notLarson assured him, moving behind Nick.

Nick turned his head slightly, as if to catch a glimpse of the man behind him. "You sure? I could really use something to drink."

"I'm sure," not Larson said.

There was a quiet whisper of metal in the silence surrounding them, right near Nick's ear. Acting more on instinct than anything else, Nick ducked down and dove off of the bench. He felt air whip over his head and a muted curse from the Reaper and rolled to his feet. He was turned around from the move and unsure which direction he was facing. Picking a direction, Nick started to run.

He didn't get very far.

Something collided with him, sending him to the ground with a painful _oomph_. Nick rolled onto his back, his hands reaching out to push the oppressive weight of his attacker off of him. He encountered clothes and skin and felt his way to the Reaper's arms, using every ounce of strength he possessed to keep the blade he knew the Reaper had away from him. The Reaper growled in anger, twisting his hand and sending the knife slashing deeply through Nick's left palm. Nick cried out in pain but held firm, managing to keep his attacker from reaching his throat.

"You can't hope to win, Grimm," the Reaper growled. "You are alone, and you cannot see me. Do not delay the inevitable."

Nick's uninjured right hand found its way to the Reaper's face and he dug his fingers into his attacker's eye sockets, pushing the head back. One of the Reaper's hands grasped Nick's wrist and tried to pull him away.

Nick's bloodied hand was struggling to keep hold of the Reaper's arm. He began to falter, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the Reaper overpowered him.

A sudden roar of rage echoed in the stillness surrounding them. Nick felt a jolt as the weight of the Reaper was suddenly torn from him and he reacted instantly, rolling to his hands and knees and preparing to run.

Something made him hesitate. Listening, Nick heard the tortured screams of the Reaper as something viciously growled and tore into flesh. Warm flecks of what Nick assumed to be blood splattered against his face, causing him to flinch. After what seemed like an eternity, the park fell back into silence.

Nick swallowed thickly, pushing away the aches and the dull burning pain in his left hand. "H-Hello?" he stammered through a dry throat.

"Nick! God, I thought I was too late! Are you okay?"

Monroe! A wave of relief so heavy swept through Nick, making him lightheaded. He lost his balance and fell onto his side.

"Whoa! Easy, man!" Hands appeared on him, causing him to flinch. The hands lightly patted his arms and shoulder, soothing him. "It's just me. It's all over now. I've got you, and I can hear some of your cop buddies coming. They'll be here soon."

"Wh-What happened?" Nick asked, exhaustion creeping into his bones.

There was a pause that almost felt . . . awkward? "Er . . . I'm going to go with a random wild animal came and mauled the serial killer before he could finish you off. Sound good?"

Nick let out a small smile as Monroe helped him to his feet. "Sounds good to me. And Monroe?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not listening to the captain and staying out of this," Nick said softly.

One arm encircled Nick's shoulders, drawing him close to Monroe in something that could almost be called a hug. "Anytime, man."

They fell into a companionable silence.

"Of course, you know, this probably counts as like sixteen you owe me all on its own."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue

Hank tore across the park, outpacing the other officers behind him. He had no idea how Renard knew where to find Nick, but his first priority was to find his partner in one piece. Seeing Larson and Taylor's vehicle parked in the lot was enough for Hank. Leaving two officers to guard the abandoned vehicle, Hank ordered the rest to follow him.

"Nick!" Two shadowy figures came into view further down the path. Hank skidded to a halt, gaze sliding over Monroe to land on Nick's shivering, bloody figure. He grasped Nick's arms tightly. "Are you okay?"

Nick nodded. "Fine."

"He needs a hospital," chimed in Monroe.

Hank nodded. "Where's the perp?"

Monroe jerked his head behind him. "Back there."

Hank looked at the mauled heap several yards away. "What the hell happened?"

"I'll explain later," Nick said. "Can we go?"

"Yeah, man." Hank released one of Nick's arms, using his grasp on the other to guide Nick back towards his car. "Wu, secure the scene and call for backup? I'm taking these guys to the hospital."

"You got it," Wu said. "Glad you're okay, Nick."

Nick smiled faintly in Wu's direction as he was tugged away from what had almost become his crime scene.

* * *

><p>Renard stood on the front porch of Nick's house, cell phone pressed to his ear. He had just heard from the hospital about Nick's condition and knew that the young man was on his way back at that moment. That gave him about fifteen minutes to come up with an explanation as to how he had figured out where the Reaper had taken Nick, and to make this phone call.<p>

He heard the other end of the line pick up and spoke without waiting for a customary greeting.

"You have undermined my rule again. The agent you sent has been dealt with."

Pause. "Your position on this matter has caused many concerns about your ability to rule your protectorate."

"My ability to rule is not in question," Renard countered firmly. "My Grimm has not acted counter to my wishes since he has come online. He is under my command and as such is no threat to you or anyone else."

"Your actions in this matter have not made you any friends here, Renard. Even if you are right and the Grimm is not a concern, your defiance is. Do not be surprised to find more challenges after this."

Renard bristled. "Any more interferences and challenges will be met with more of the same. Leave me to rule as I see fit."

A click and silence answered him. Renard snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, fuming silently.

He had a feeling that his troubles with the Ferat were only just beginning.

* * *

><p>Morning dawned warmly, gently rousing Nick from sleep. He blinked open his eyes and curled into the warmth of his bed clothes, giving in to the urge to lay in bed lazily for a little while longer.<p>

Memories of the last few hours awakened in his mind. He stared blankly at the wall as he recalled Monroe's eleventh hour rescue, Hank's demands about his health, and the whirlwind trip to the hospital.

Juliette had come running into his exam room right after the nurse had finished putting stitches into his hand. It had taken some time for her to calm down once she learned the whole story, and had refused to leave his side for the rest of the night.

Renard, along with several others from the department, was waiting for him when Monroe and Juliette took him back home. Nick had been saddened to learn about Larson and Taylor, and spared a thought that the Reaper's death had been too quick. He quickly banished that thought; he wasn't the only one to lose friends at the Reaper's hands, and it had to be enough that that monster would never harm another person again. It would be enough.

Eventually.

So lost in memories was Nick that is was several moments before he realized that he could actually _see_ the wall he was staring at.

Startled, Nick sat up and looked around his bedroom.

His eyesight was still very fuzzy, and smaller details were harder to make out, but there was no mistaking his dresser across the room, or the curtains on his window. He could see!

A grin spread across his face and he climbed out of bed. Tugging on his robe, Nick walked out of his bedroom and into the hallway, soaking in every inch of his home with a new appreciation. He walked carefully down his stairs, drawn toward the sound of light conversation in the dining room.

His eyes were drawn to Juliette first, sitting at the table with a cooling cup of coffee in front of her. Nick studied her red hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. He saw the soft smile on her face and glimmer in her eyes that she always had when involved in a joke.

Across from her sat Monroe. Curly brown hair tousled from sleep, beard a little thicker than normal. His brown eyes were sly, as if sharing a secret. He lifted his mug of coffee to his lips, eyes flickering over to Nick. He set his coffee down and smiled in greeting. "Well, look who's up! Nick, man, we thought you'd sleep the day away!"

Juliette turned and smiled at him. Nick felt a warm glow inside at the realization that the two most important people in his life were sitting before him. He smiled at both of them.

"Hey, guess what?" he said.

THE END

* * *

><p>Finished! Finally! Thank you to everyone who reviewed and stuck it out to the end with me! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.<p> 


End file.
